


A Realm of Hungry Wolves

by QueenRadish



Series: On the Outside, Looking In [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, asmodeus can have a little character development...as a treat, i just really wanted to explore what it would be like if asmo DIDN'T immediately get along with MC, mici is a bad bitch, team GIVE ASMO A PERSONALITY, will definitely write more content for these two as they grow closer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRadish/pseuds/QueenRadish
Summary: This…was a new one for him.Asmodeus was not Lucifer, so he had virtually no issue admitting he wasn’t always someone’s tastes. He might be damn close, desire-adjacent, but sometimes, the cold, hard truth was that something (or someone) else was the apple of their eye. That was fine – he was the centerpiece for so many others anyway.However, this wasn’t just taste.----------Mici doesn't like Asmodeus. At all. And though he really, really should just ignore it, he finds himself determined to know why.
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: On the Outside, Looking In [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938181
Kudos: 41





	A Realm of Hungry Wolves

This…was a new one for him.

Asmodeus was not Lucifer, so he had virtually no issue admitting he wasn’t _always_ someone’s tastes. He might be damn _close_ , desire-adjacent, but sometimes, the cold, hard truth was that something (or someone) else was the apple of their eye. That was fine – he was the centerpiece for so many others anyway.

However, this wasn’t just taste.

Their pet little human was a novelty at first. Asmo wouldn’t have denied his own curiosity, especially with her fearless gaze at Lucifer’s condescension, the way she effortlessly charmed their weasel of a brother into her personal valet (without even realizing she’d done it!), the surefire glint in her eye when she was determined to get her way…it was refreshing. He was already tethered to one fascinating human – though he wouldn’t deny another.

Naturally, he hit on her within the first thirty minutes.

It was just after dinner, their first dinner, and Asmodeus watched her careful, curious, intelligent gaze raking over each of his brothers with enough intensity to make him squirm by osmosis. When it was finally his turn, and she met his already present stare with surprise and darkened cheeks on her brown skin, he played his role – and let a long, curling smirk accent his jaw. He summoned just a _bit_ of Charm, curling languidly around his shoulders, not enough to alert the others.

“Want some dessert?” he purred. Mici stiffened. He was ready for the flustered denial, watched her body for the lull of attraction his Charm beckoned, and waited for-

“No thanks,” she said firmly. Asmo blinked as Mici stood. She gathered her empty plate – and his, he realized, as the rest of the brothers had already cleared out – and briskly walked to the kitchen. He was left dull and still at the table, his Charm having dissipated into the wood.

What just happened?

* * *

In the first week, he found a few more things on their new student. One: Micaella “Mici” Gomez-Morales was scarily smart. Satan’s face at her utter, hilarious, _complete_ abolishment of him on a literature trivia would have been blackmail material for centuries if Asmodeus wasn’t astonished by it too. It wasn’t just minor interests, either – her grades were impeccable, even with such a sudden change in curriculum.

The second thing he learned was that she and Mammon might just cause the apocalypse if left alone together. Her “protector” had turned into “enabler” within a few days, and the combined power of their chaotic, money-hungry schemes was, if he was being honest – _terrifying_. Lucifer had dragged them out of (he realized with chagrin that he actually had to _count_ ) 24 separate scams in the span of one afternoon yesterday. That still didn’t stop Mici from walking back into the House of Lamentation with two very suspicious bags of Grimm and a self-satisfied smirk. Lucifer had asked her where she’d gotten it. Mici just met his gaze, rose a brow, and replied, “That’s not your problem.”

Yeah, he wouldn’t deny it was a little hot.

The last thing he’d learned, however, was the one that had landed him in this predicament: no matter what he did, what he said, which way he looked or what line he threw, Mici was completely, stubbornly oblivious to his charm.

He realized soon in that his actual power had no effect. That, alone, was strange. But Solomon assured him she might have some sort of latent, magical barrier (and then proceeded to explain it with such detail that Asmodeus took the easy route and just pressed ‘end call’). But Mici had no magical ability. They’d been told that.

Powers aside, it wasn’t just that she was unaware of his flirtations. It was that she actively despised them.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was the most shocking of all. He’d been willing to take the dinner incident as a foul mood. He’d sauntered to her a few days later, “innocently” draped in an off-the-shoulder house cardigan, and perched himself next to her on the couch. She flicked her dark eyes up and over him, and he preened, meeting her gaze coyly. His neck arched, bare for the taking.

And then Mici looked right back at her book.

Asmo opened his mouth, then closed it. He settled for shifting – she was a bookish type, that was all, nothing to do with _him_ – and tried again, crossing one leg over the other. He cleared his throat and earned her attention again.

“What’cha reading?” he chirped. Mici held up the spine of the book.

“ _Anatomy of Sin; The Physical Effects of the Affected,_ ”, she said. Her voice was clear and high, dainty, even. “Satan lent it to me.”

“Oh?” Asmodeus took initiative and moved in closer on the couch, then propped his elbow on the back of it. “Hm, anatomy, is it?” One of his crossed feet made a faux-accidental brush against her calf, his slippers soft against her tights. She never seemed to wear anything other than their uniform – and the occasional, rare sweatpants. “What a smart little human you are.”

Mici looked wary, but not of him. He recognized her careful glint as similar to Satan controlling his Wrath. Finally, she dog-eared the page (and, somewhere, he might have heard Satan weep), set the book in her lap, and fixed him with the last expression he expected to see: a glare.

“Is there something you want, Asmodeus?” she snapped. Asmo stiffened, but didn’t move back. Still, his languid smile never wavered.

“There’s a lot of things I want, precious.” He grinned. Leaning closer, slowly, the touch of his foot on her calf got a whole lot less accidental. He heard the soft inhale between her plump lips. Up close, she had freckles, he realized. And they darkened so prettily, along with the rest of her cheeks. “I can lend you something much more fun than a _book_ , if you like.”

Just to see, he let his Charm snake out again, this time like a fog around them both. He rarely used this much on a crowd, let alone one person, let alone one _human_. But just like before, Mici only stared at him, frowned, and put her book back on the table with a resounding _slam_.

There was a moment of quiet after that. Asmodeus was half expecting her to storm off like always. But she stayed on that couch, still and silent, and once again he couldn’t help the eerie comparison to his brother in how obviously she was managing her own inner demon. Her upper lip twitched in clear distaste.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. The high, sweet pitch of her voice was a lovely contrast with her biting tone. Asmo found himself wanting more. “I consider myself a very patient person. I don’t consider myself a very _stupid_ person. Which is what I would _have_ to be, _along_ with patient, in order to listen to this nonsense any longer.” She turned her head and her short, black bob whipped with it. “Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it.”

Asmodeus was a little too confused to feel rejected. He reeled back, one hand splayed on his chest in not _entirely_ mock-offense. “I beg your pardon? Darling, what exactly do you think I’m trying to do?” And he meant it – it was one thing not to be interested, but his gut was telling him there was something else.

But Mici didn’t respond. She was just fixing him with that cool, curious stare. Asmodeus felt a little bubble of frustration in his chest and leaned forward.

“The silent treatment is only cute _sometimes_ , dear,” he said. “Good little humans use their words.”

_That_ made her bristle. _Doesn’t like condescension_ , he told himself, thinking back to her and Lucifer’s showdown. But there was something delicious in that stubborn frown. _Another time_.

“And good little _demons_ ,” Mici shot back, “Have a better sense of decorum. Good evening.”

She _did_ storm off that time, snatching up her book and marching to the stairs. Asmodeus was left stunned, alone on the couch, and not for the first time – utterly confused.

* * *

“I mean – _decorum_! She said _I_ didn’t have a good sense of decorum! Me!” Asmodeus groaned and ran a hand through his hair – artfully, of course.

Beside him, Beel muttered an “uh-huh” into his sandwich, punctuated by a “wow” into his chips. He sufficiently eliminated both of them and looked up. “That’s weird.”

“Isn’t it?” Asmo huffed. He picked a little at the cryberries on his plate. “Of all the humans Diavolo could have chosen, he had to pick the _rudest_ one.”

“I dunno,” Beel said. He inhaled the other half of his sandwich and started terrorizing the salad. “She’s really nice to me. She also cooked us breakfast last week, right?” _That_ left a particular note of adoration in his voice. “Mmm. I want more of those spicy eggs now.”

“Good for you, big guy,” Asmo muttered into his palm. He clearly wasn’t getting any sympathy from Beel. Or the rest of his brothers, really. Mici and Satan had practically formed their own book club, she’d clearly won Beel’s undying loyalty with her cooking, was suicidal enough to stand up to Lucifer, and Mammon was her partner in crime.

As if summoned, Asmo’s eyes locked on Mici trotting into the lunch hall, Mammon at her hip as always. Judging by the conspiring glint in both their eyes, _someone_ was winding up broke by the end of the day. He patted his wallet out of sheer instinct.

Mici scanned the crowd, and then her eyes met his, and promptly narrowed. He just scoffed. “That’s _so_ immature,” he grumbled, barely audible, “Dirty looks? Really?”

“Thirty books?” Beel echoed, “Why so many?”

Asmodeus rolled his eyes and decided he wasn’t hungry.

* * *

About a month in, Asmodeus was ready to give up.

Really, it was fine. So there was one person in the three realms, _one_ person, who was actively repulsed by him. That was alright. He had _mountains_ of worshipers, idle hands ready to stroke his ego (among other things) at a moment’s notice. He could handle that, for some unknown, unnatural, ridiculous, _frustrating_ reason, Mici hated his guts.

He just wished he didn’t have to literally _live_ with it.

The constant icy glares were becoming a breakfast side dish. He’d long dropped the pick-up lines and fluttering lashes, but somehow her hostility remained. Her infuriatingly regal, haughty, poised little face looked at him every day like a roach she didn’t feel like squishing.

And he was _not_ going to put up with it.

His thin knuckles knocked thrice on her door. A pause, and then gentle padding of feet. Asmodeus had crossed his arms when the door finally opened, and Mici was there – her short bob wet and being patted gently with a towel. Her skin glowed from the heat of the shower she’d apparently just taken. Despite himself, despite _everything_ , Asmodeus couldn’t help a little purr of appreciation.

Mici did not purr. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“You can, actually.” Asmodeus smirked, ignoring her protest as he maneuvered past her and into her room.

“Hey!” she yelped, “Don’t just _walk_ in here-“

“Would you prefer I berate you in the hall, darling?” He plopped on her bed. “Close the door.” At her immediate glare, he let out the mightiest scoff he could muster and rolled his eyes to his previous home. “Oh, _please_. Honey, I’m not going to try anything.” _Unless you want me to_ , his traitorous tongue wanted to say. He nearly bit it and flashed a thin smile.

Slowly, like she was caging herself in with a lion, Mici let the door close on its own. She didn’t move from her spot, though. She just watched him like he’d pounce.

“What do you want?” she finally said.

“What did I do?” he responded. The sobriety of his tone surprised _him_ , but especially Mici, judging by her wide eyes. “Listen. You may be abnormal for seeing all of _this_ ,” he motioned to the length of his body and nearly snickered with how her gaze refused to follow, “And deciding you don’t want a piece, but that’s happened. Rarely. Very, very rarely, but I suppose it’s happened.” He tilted his head. “Now, we can discuss what your little issue with me is like _civilized_ people and maybe, gasp, come to a _solution_ , or you can keep looking at me like you’ll turn my intestines into a boa.” He tutted his tongue. “You glare very prettily, my dear, but it does get old.”

Mici was still, her fingers working thoughtfully into the towel on her neck. He could see those dark eyes dancing with indecision. But there wasn’t as much venom behind them as before. Gently, she took a step toward him, and then another, before depositing herself on her vanity chair. She made a halfhearted attempt to pretend to dry her hair as she talked.

“You mean you weren’t doing it on purpose?” she finally said. She worked the shining black strands over with a roughness that made him wince.

He shrugged, inspecting an imaginary chip in his nails. “Oh, yes,” he snickered, “Whatever I’ve done that I’ve stated multiple times having no idea about – I did it all on purpose. Just for you.” He then dodged a hairbrush shot by his ear. “Hey! At least throw something soft!”

“Get a bruise – it’ll humble you.” She grabbed a moisturizer off her vanity and started working her cheeks. But her fingers started slowing, pulling careful circles around her skin, until the finished and only stared at her reflection. Asmodeus saw the edge of her jaw working. Thinking. Restraining. “You’re…the Avatar of Lust, right?”

“Is that the problem?” he asked, voice less solid than he’d meant. He cleared his throat and hoped she didn’t notice. Mici just turned, looking at him over her shoulder.

“It’s not. Well, it’s – it is. But it’s not.”

“This is adorable. I think that was almost coherent.”

Her glare was back but he couldn’t help his grin. Mici just stood from her vanity – but where he thought she was going to finish drying her hair, she instead walked to his side, and plopped beside him on the bed. Her bare thighs, smooth brown against the pink sheets, curled gently up under her chin. _So she doesn’t just wear sweatpants_ , he thought. His jaw worked with the effort to tear his eyes back up.

She was looking at him. Not judgmentally. Just that classically careful, cautious stare of hers, but this time without its usual lacing of contempt. He wondered what expression she wanted to see back. Eventually, he settled for meeting her gaze with a smug, small smile, but nothing more.

“I don’t like being made fun of,” she eventually said. “I especially don’t like being teased.” Her gaze broke away from his, refocusing on her bedroom rug. “I get that you all act…accordingly to your sin. You especially.” But still, she didn’t look at him, and he would have sworn her shoulders curled in.

He felt like he was repeating himself, but sighed anyway. “So, is that the problem?” he asked again, “I know you humans have your funny little ideas about lust and morality, but translating it so _literally_ is just-“

“What?” she blinked up at him, “No, that’s- that’s not what I meant. Ugh. I’m explaining this badly.” She ran a hand through her hair. Not as artfully as he did, but there was a certain panache, he’d admit. “Beel is Gluttony, so he likes to eat. Mammon is Greed, so he likes money. Lucifer is Pride, so he’s a dick.” The small curl of her lips at Asmo’s abrupt snicker was rewarding in itself. “Satan tries to hide it, yeah, but he’s Wrath, so he…doesn’t forget.” Her fingers tightened briefly into the bedsheets. “And you’re Lust. But it doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re the only thing not making sense, darling,” he said, softer than he meant. “Was I too forward or something? If I made you uncomfortable-“

“You weren’t too forward. I just…” after working the words around like sour candy, she spoke again. “I thought you were trying to humiliate me.”

Asmo must have looked as bewildered as he felt, because she groaned again and hid her face in her hands. He was too flabbergasted to even relish this uncharacteristic bashfulness, instead settling for leaning forward, brows furrowed.

“How…” he started, “How in the _world_ did you think that?”

“Because what else could it be?” she shot back, defensively. “I can’t go five minutes here without being reminded that all of you think I’m weak at best, a liability at worst! The only thing I can prove myself in is academics, but anywhere else it’s _don’t get eaten, Mici_ , or _you can’t be by yourself, Mici_ , or _hey Mici, where’s your guard dog?_. So _do_ forgive me for not taking you seriously with your pretty little _everything_ and your flirting and your- ugh!” And then she was pacing, quick little lines around the room. Her hands animated in front of her, punctuating her points. “At least the others were up front about what they thought of me. But you just kept pushing the joke. I thought it was just a human thing, but then I heard you made a pact with Solomon, so apparently it’s a _me_ thing, and that’s even worse!”

Asmodeus just watched her hit that point with a flair of her fingers, then continued her march. He knew his furrowed brow was going to wrinkle if he kept it that way, but for the life of him, he could _not_ undo the confusion inside it. One finger pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I- let me get this straight, dear.” He crossed a leg. “You think I’ve been routinely humiliating you because you, apparently, _exist_ , and not only that, but that I’ve kept this elaborate joke up for the entire _month_?”

“I…” she stopped. “Well, it does sound stupid when you say it like that.”

“Because it is!” He flopped back on the bed with the most dramatic sigh he could muster. “Ugh, so I’ve had to endure your bitchy little stares for _this_ long, just because you don’t know how to take a compliment?”

“I know how to take a compliment!” Mici shot back. He only heard the soft padding of feet before she was suddenly leaning over him. The smell of her body wash wafted pleasantly, a contrast to the stern frown on her lips. “And I’m not bitchy!”

He rolled his eyes. Part of him didn’t even want to dignify this stupid conversation with anything else – he could just march out the door, draw a bubble bath, and self-care himself away from weird humans and their weird brains. But the other part of him, the part that unfortunately beat the other part into submission, knew that this was not a problem for Tomorrow Asmodeus.

“Mici.” He took his arm off his eyes and shot her a look. “Yes, okay, _maybe_ we could break you like a toothpick if we looked at you too hard.” Her stern frown only made him snicker. “Ooh, cute. But, honestly? That’s not going to change.”

Mici reared back and tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, it’s true!” Asmo leaned up and back on his hands. “You don’t even have magic, precious! You’re a walking, bloody steak in an entire _realm_ of very hungry wolves. The fact that you don’t get mauled at RAD is a miracle. You know Beel had to be actively convinced into _not_ eating you when you first arrived?” Maybe the grin on his face was a little evil, a little leering, but a shiver of pleasure upped his spine at the apprehension in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t take you seriously.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze quizzical, her fingers splayed idly on her shirt. Her hair was starting to air-dry, curling in sweet little ringlets around her chin. Asmo reached out, letting one dance on his finger.

“I wasn’t trying to patronize you. If I didn’t see someone worth my time, darling, then I wouldn’t give it to them. I don’t toy with people lesser than me.” He let his grin stretch a little wider over his fangs. “It’s no fun like that.”

Mici’s expression was, simply put, _darling_. Her lips parted lightly, a little perfect ‘o’ of surprise, and those dark cheeks were back again, deepening every time he tugged on a curl. But her eyes were locked on him, _seeing_ him, as if realizing that, for the first time, the most beautiful person in the three realms was right across from her. Asmo suddenly felt a swell of pride in his gut. He wondered how far he could take this.

“I see,” she finally managed, clearing her throat. “I…well. Thank you for clarifying. I apologize for how I acted.”

“It’s forgiven,” those words had a bitter sting on his lips, but he smiled anyways. Asmo let his finger trail from her hair to her jaw, light as a feather and just as soft. “Now then, can we both move past this, sweetheart? Because, frankly, you’re _much_ too pretty to be scowling all the time, especially at me.”

This earned him a flustered smack of his hand away from her chin and a scoff. “You’re still going to lay off the pickup lines.”

“Hm? Am I?” Asmodeus stood, taking in with satisfaction her sudden realization of how close she’d been standing. “Are you going to make me?” He was leaning in now, slowly, almost enough to excuse it as gravity, but his half-lidded gaze was unmistakable. He drunk in her sweet little gasp with a purr. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I…” she gulped. “But you…”

Just when they were a breath away, Asmodeus paused, and flicked his bright gaze up to hers. His fingers squeezed her chin affectionately. “I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up, lovely. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

And then he released her, sauntering to the door and tugging it open with a flourish. In the passing reflection of the vanity, all he saw was Mici’s shocked, pretty little face, and let his chest grow warm.

This was going to be a fun year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first Obey Me! fic, but I really wanted to expand a little on Asmodeus' personality, because the game kinda does him dirty. I do really wanna write more for these two, so if there's something specific you wanna see please tell me! Thanks again!


End file.
